Colton's Deadly Disguise (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 7)

by Geri Krotow

  Holden’s hand was on her shoulder, warm, protective. And she didn’t bristle, but accepted it with a smile that she knew must look wan at best. Exhaustion poured over her and she sank onto the nearest seat, a sofa cushion.

  “No, and if I did, I would have already had you out of here. I’m sorry I didn’t catch him earlier.” A tendon on the side of his jaw clenched and she knew he was annoyed. At her, at losing track of the attacker, probably both.

  “I thought it might be you.” Except she’d heard his voice telling the attacker to stop. His voice had steadied her, even in the grips of a probable killer.

  He chuckled. “I don’t blame you. No, it wasn’t me. You can verify with your brother or any other MVPD officer. I called in the incident as soon as your attacker took off.”

  “After you made him let go of me.”

  “I can’t take credit for that. It was the circumstances.”

  “Of you forcing him to flee. My brother told me when he brought me back to my car. All of MVPD is in awe of how you handled the situation. You stayed cool and forced the attacker’s hand.”

  She regarded him, liked how he didn’t so much as twitch under her scrutiny. “You followed us from the hospital, didn’t you? I knew I saw you there.” She saw him again in her mind’s eye, how he’d leaned up against the nurses’ station and kept his face averted as she’d walked out of the hospital. But she hadn’t trusted her memory, not so soon after being knocked out.

  Holden nodded. “I did.”

  “How did he knock me out?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She shook her head. “One minute I was at the file cabinet and the next I heard this awful voice, then all went black.”

  “He had a voice box on, over a facemask and hoodie. I saw it.”

  “Terrifying.” But it didn’t answer how he knocked her out.

  “He used a sleeper hold on you. I saw it as I came into the room. You were already out—there was nothing I could do to protect you from being knocked unconscious.”

  “You kept me from a lot worse.”

  “Maybe.”

  He was being modest but she wasn’t going to call him on it. Not yet, not until she figured out why he was here, now. The FBI was interested in the pageant, confirming her suspicions that there was more going on here than a scholarship contest.

  “I’m a reporter. I’m not hiding my motives for being here from you. Unlike you.” She knew she really needed to back off the accusatory attitude but it was hard. Federal agents had a reputation of not looking fondly upon the media.

  “True on all accounts. Answer my question, Bella. Why are you here?”

  She ran over all the reasons to not tell him but they didn’t make sense. Not when she was looking up at him, the red, blotchy skin of his face a reminder that he’d calmly taken an all-out attack from her, yet remained cool and calm. The ultimate professional. No wonder having him as a security guard had seemed like overkill. He looked and acted like he was tops in his field at the Bureau. Whatever Holden was, he appeared to be a man who got what he wanted.

  “I’m doing an undercover report on pageant practices, specifically Ms. Mustang Valley. Not just this year’s, but the last ten pageants or so.” The time span that Gio had participated. Before eating disorders and resultant poor health had taken her, too soon.

  “What kind of ‘practices’?”

  “I want to find out if they ever made, or still do make, the contestants diet or be a certain size or weight. If they encourage any kind of unhealthy behavior that had a long-term effect on the contestants.”

  “You look down in the dumps about it. I can’t say that I’d find that surprising. Would you?” His astuteness rattled her. How did a stranger see right through her?

  “I, I’m doing it because I lost a friend who spent half of her life competing in pageants, including this one. She never won, but never gave up. And it killed her.”

  “What killed her? Exactly?” His voice, low and deadly, unexpectedly buoyed her. Holden was a man who sought justice every day, who probably understood her motives better than she did.

  “It wasn’t foul play, if that’s what you’re asking. Not with a visible weapon, anyhow. To be fair, I don’t know what really took her. In the end it was classified as malnutrition due to an eating disorder. No matter what the death certificate said, she’s gone forever and while I blame the pageant industry as a whole, I’m especially furious at Ms. Mustang Valley. I can’t rest until I know the persons who tortured her the most, who bullied her to turn herself into someone she wasn’t by alternatively bingeing and starving herself. I suspect the pageant board and maybe some of the judges are to blame.”

  “Do you have any idea exactly who? Names?” Holden’s interest buoyed her. Maybe she would get her answers more quickly with his help.

  “Gio mentioned both Selina Barnes Colton, and Hannah Rosenstein. And I want to state, for the record, that I’m no relation to Selina, not by blood, anyway. And that branch of the Coltons hasn’t had anything to do with me or my brothers in decades.” Vulnerability flared but relief that someone else believed her suspicions, didn’t think she was stringing together random events, outweighed any sense of risk.

  Holden watched her for a long moment, then walked to the sofa and pointed at the spot next to her. “May I?”

  “Of course.” She shifted to the side a bit, but there wasn’t a lot of room on the two-cushion sofa. As she realized that she didn’t mind being so close to the man she’d been wary of all day, the man she’d attacked, the silliness of the situation hit her. Laughter bubbled up and she let it out.

  Holden looked at her and a wide grin split his face, swollen, red-rimmed eyes and all. His pepper-spray injuries didn’t keep her from seeing the spark in his dark irises, though.

  “I’m so sorry I pepper sprayed you. I’m not known for being the most gentle of persons around these parts, but I don’t usually attack complete strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger. I’m a federal law enforcement agent who needs answers. It sounds like you do, too. We can accomplish a lot more together than we can separately.”

  Anxiety rumbled in her gut. She was a reporter first, not some kind of wannabe cop. “I’m working on an article, a report. Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for us to work side by side?”

  “Only if you plan on breaking the law, or to keep anything from me that legally I need to pursue my case. I’m ignoring how you got back into the school tonight, of course.”

  She considered it, considered him, blew her bangs out of her face. “Fine. But I don’t want you restricting my participation in the pageant at all. I need to be able to function as a regular contestant, to get into all the events.” She groaned as she thought of evening-gown competition.

  “To be clear, you’re trying to pin your friend’s death on a particular person on the pageant board? And right now you’ve got Selina and Hannah as suspects?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She hated this part, the fact that she really didn’t even know what she was searching for. It stirred up her worst fears—that she’d never find out why Gio had to die. “What I’m trying to do is expose this pageant’s culture for what it is. Find out what triggered a beautiful young woman to turn to a life of self-mutilation and experience severe body dysmorphia at such a young, malleable age.”

  “You aren’t going to find any one person to blame, Bella. You don’t really believe that you will, do you?”

  Holden’s gaze cut through her and she shivered, then was awash in heat. Yeah, there was chemistry here. The kind that could and would not only derail her undercover investigation, but get her heart into deep waters. But something more played out between them. Holden was taking her seriously, not mocking her for entering the pageant.

  He seemed to respect her, even though he gave off waves of disdain whenever she said t
he words reporter or story.

  “I don’t know what I believe right now. I won’t until I read the pageant archives. Which I may never find now.” She cast a glance at the empty file cabinet.

  “Fair enough. But I’d hate to see you risking your safety to find there’s no answer that will satisfy your need for closure. Trust me on this, Bella. Sometimes we don’t get all of the answers.” The loneliness in his tone wrapped around her. She wondered if he was talking about the service but didn’t want to go there, not with someone she’d just met.

  “Where do you live, Holden? When you’re not out investigating beauty pageants?”

  He blinked, caught off guard by her change of subject. She liked that she did that to him, made him think on his feet. Or on the sofa. Most men didn’t reveal that she’d made them do a mental double take.

  “Right now I’m staying at the Dales Inn, much to the consternation of my boss.” He grinned and it was as if he really did consider her a trusted colleague, adding oxygen to the warm glow in her belly. “We don’t usually get put up at luxury hotels on our government budget. But there wasn’t any other place to stay, not close enough to do my job well. When I’m not on the road for a case, I live in Phoenix. I work out of the field office there, and fly back to DC as needed to give reports.”

  “Are you an agent or a profiler?”

  “Agent. Profilers don’t generally work in the field, not on an active case, unless it’s exceptional and has involved a larger number of victims. Why do you ask?”

  “I already know why you’re here, Holden. There were two deaths in two previous Arizona pageants this year. They’re under the same promotions-company umbrella. You must think they’re related, and that Ms. Mustang Valley is next on the list. Am I right? Don’t worry, I’m not putting any of this in my exposé.”

  He stared at her for a second before looking away, out the window at the setting sun. “Partially. But I’m not privy to talk about all of it.”

  “What, you want me to work with you but you’re not going to fill me in on what you find? That’s not a good deal for me. Spencer told me more in a three-minute car ride than you have over the last half hour.” She stood up.

  “Bella, wait.” He grasped her hand and she looked down at the sight of their hands together. It should feel wrong, or out of place, considering their stations in life and here, now, in the pageant. Yet it felt right.

  Bella tugged her hand free. Falling for an FBI agent was not the path to getting what she needed for her exposé. No matter how much her brother trusted him.

  Chapter 6

  “I’m sorry.” Holden wasn’t fond of apologizing and the fact that he was doing so to someone who’d been no more than a stranger only hours earlier should concern him. But a serial killer was on the loose. He knew Bella’s brother, a man he would trust with his life during lethal missions. All of that, combined with having witnessed what Bella had suffered through so far today made polite social conventions superfluous. There wasn’t time to “get to know” her. Holden was committed to keeping her alive.

  She turned, her narrowed eyes flashing jade fire. “Sorry for what?”

  He sucked in a quick breath. “For sounding like a jerk. Large parts of the investigation, of my job, are classified. I know you understand this, since Spencer is your brother. He can’t tell you all of his police business.”

  She nodded. “I do understand. And you must understand that since I’m back here, today, willing to risk running into the suspect who knocked me out earlier, I mean business, too. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to split this pageant wide open.”

  “It’s at the risk of your life, if we’re dealing with the same killer.”

  Her eyes shimmered and he caught a wave of grief as it pulsed off her. “I don’t expect this story to come without a price.”

  “Nothing worthwhile ever does. But is it worth it for a story?” His phone buzzed and he checked the text. His supervisor. “I have to take this. Will you wait for me, let me take you to dinner? We can talk this over and come up with an actionable plan that will suit both of us.” And keep her safe.

  Bella’s wariness couldn’t be more evident in the way she eyed him as if he were her worst enemy. “Fine. But it’s dessert, not dinner. At the local diner downtown. The one with the hitching post out front. Do you know it?”

  He nodded, held up his index finger. “Right. Do not leave until I do.” He took the call. “St. Clair.”

  “What’s going on? I’ve got MVPD reports in front of me that an assailant attacked one of the pageant contestants?” His boss, in Phoenix, didn’t sound pleased.

  “Yes. I’m on it. With the victim now.”

  “Who is she? And you shouldn’t be with her, Holden—she needs to be in protective custody until we catch this killer.”

  He turned his back to Bella, searching for a modicum of privacy. “Agreed. She’s a reporter on undercover assignment, entered the pageant for her story on another topic entirely.”

  “That makes this even more dangerous, Holden.”

  “Or it’ll bring it to a close sooner.” He looked over his shoulder and saw that Bella was talking to someone on her phone, using earbuds. “I will make sure she’s safe, boss. Her brother is the only other civilian, besides the statewide pageant director, who knows my identity. Spencer Colton and I served in the army together. I can’t convince her to quit, and if being knocked out and almost abducted didn’t do it, we’re better off having her on our side.” His gut churned at the memory of his ex and how he’d been duped by her journalistic goals. At least Bella was up-front about why she was here, and unapologetic about her career goals.

  “I completely trust your judgment. It’s just that we’ve got a very intelligent killer this time, Holden. He’s willing to use different methods as long as he gets his victim.”

  Holden didn’t have to be reminded that a killer who didn’t stick to their own protocol, who kept changing things up, was the most dangerous and hardest to catch. A vision of Bella, bloody and inert, forced its way through his logic and he had to fight to stay present, in the reality that she was safe and he’d keep her that way.

  “All the more reason for me to keep a close eye on Ms. Colton.”

  “What is she investigating, by the way?” His supervisor’s question was tinged with impatience edged with curiosity.

  “Pageant methods, possibly their influence over young women at critical ages, how the methods can encourage eating disorders.”

  His supervisor let out a low whistle. “That’s a tall order from just one competition.”

  “Not for this reporter.” It was natural to defend Bella and her work.

  Another red flag. He was too close to making this case personal. Or had it been personal from the moment he’d realized the killer’s number-one target was his buddy’s sister?

  * * *

  Bella agreed to allow Holden to inspect her car for any intruders and explosives, and only after he was certain she was safely locked inside, the engine running, did he get in his vehicle. He followed her to the rustic Western diner that was off the town’s tourist path, a place she often came to work on her laptop when the Gabber’s offices were too busy or she needed to be out of her house. Bella prided herself on her independence, to a fault. It surprised her that she found comfort in knowing Holden was behind her, that if the attacker jumped out from in back of one of the many parked cars around the diner, Holden would be there.

  The attack, remembered or not, must have shook her more than she realized. Vulnerability choked her ability to think as clearly as she needed for this job.

  Once inside they sat at a booth in a far corner of the restaurant, able to see patrons arrive without unnecessarily exposing themselves.

  “Are you sure you just want dessert? I’m starving and plan to have a full meal.” Holden was courteous in the way she’d seen other L
EAs behave, including her brother. Holden seemed to see her as part of his case, although his demeanor toward her had an icy frosting to it she couldn’t put her finger on. Yet.

  Her stomach grumbled and she let go of her stubbornness. “You’re right. I could use a decent meal. It’s been a long day.” Her admission came easily. It was the first time since earlier today that she’d been hungry. The events over the last several hours had doused her appetite.

  “You’re probably coming off the adrenaline rush of surviving the assault. It’s your body’s natural reaction to what you went through.”

  A laugh escaped her. “Your words are so compassionate, agent.”

  He scowled. “Don’t refer to me as anything other than my name. That’s for both our safety. And I’m sorry if my manners need polishing. I’m hungry.”

  “More like hangry.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hungry, angry, mix in tired, and you get hangry.”

  His scowl deepened but then miraculously morphed into a grin. “Heck, I’ve been called worse, I suppose.”

  “Hi, ya’ll. What’ll you have?” Angelina, a woman Bella had gone to school with, stood at their table.

  “Hey, Angelina.” She gave the waitress her order. “Are you still in law school?”

  Angelina grinned. “I am. Getting ready to graduate and take the bar. I’m working here at night to help out my parents.” Angelina’s family owned the successful and cherished local.

  “That’s wonderful! Congrats.”

  “I’m Holden. I’m a friend of Bella’s.” He was polite and Angelina evidently thought he was hot, too, from the way she arched her brow and shot Bella a grin. “I’ll have your biggest hangry burger and fries, with a strawberry milkshake on the side.” Holden flashed a wide smile at Angelina. “I’ve been told I’m hangry.”

  Angelina snorted. “I’m hangry all the time.” She winked at Bella. “Hank and I just found out we’re going to be having twins.”